While You Were Sleeping
by Mako Headrush
Summary: First-person drabble, told from Cloud's POV. Cloud comforts Reno after a rough day.He also takes some personal inventory and realizes not to take things for granted. Established CloudxReno relationship, rated M for safety (mild yaoi reference, non-graphic). One-shot, complete.


**Summary: Bit of a first person drabble. Cloud takes some personal inventory and realizes not to take things for granted. Established CloudxReno, rated M for safety (mild yaoi reference, non-graphic).  
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**Usual disclaimer: I don't own FFVII, wish I did. Squeenix owns all, this fic is written for fun and not profit.**

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To this day, people still wonder how we did it. How you and me - Cloud Strife and Reno of the Turks - seemingly opposites, managed to not only become friends, but much, much more than that. They still call me the Hero of the Planet – and it's a title I never wanted. One that I never felt I actually earned. I was just trying to do the right thing, while trying to find myself. Figure out who I was, and who I used to be. And I'm still trying to figure out the man I want to become.

I take a lot of good ribbing from our friends, how the quiet, moody one ended up falling in love with the loud, always-inserting-his-foot-in-his-mouth Turk. I'm not really sure when it happened, or how. I remember feeling a sense of relief when we decided to work together. I wasn't sure if I could trust you, because of who you worked for – oh, and the little fact that you'd tried to kill me multiple times in the past.

It's times like this – the quiet times, which are few and far between these days – that I'll just lay here in our bed and watch you sleeping, and marvel at whatever it is that brought us together. Some call it fate, or kismet. I'm not sure I can put a word to it myself, but just knowing how easily we could have missed this chance to be together, it makes me stop and think sometimes, and I guess…just take inventory of everything I have in my life.

Today was a difficult day for you. Although you'd rather die than admit it - and most people who are anti-Shinra wouldn't believe it anyway, that a Turk could feel guilt about something – I know you came home with blood on your hands. Quite literally, and you didn't say much at all when you finally got home. Just raised your hand in a weak hello, and got yourself into the shower without so much as a word to me. You were in there for a long time. I wanted to go in after you, but like me…you've got your pride. We're a lot more alike in some ways than most people might think.

We ate a late dinner together in relative silence, and when I asked you how your day was, you muttered something about Don Corneo's son, and something about 'unnecessary collateral damage.' Then I figured out what that blood on your hands was all about. Then you poured your heart out to me. That the young woman who was desperately trying to flee Corneo's prostitution ring had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't one of the Turks' bullets that had taken her life, but you and Rude would be blamed all the same. Then again, as you noted, "who the hell's gonna notice if another whore is dead? She was someone's daughter, someone's lover, maybe even someone's mother. Now she's dead, bleedin' her life's blood out in my lap. I couldn't help her, I just couldn't…"

I lamely assured you that it would be okay, that at least you'd _tried_, and at least you'd comforted this nameless woman as she passed into the Lifestream. Hours later, I would be holding you as you waited for the sleeping pill you'd taken to take effect. Sleep wasn't coming easily for you, it never did after days like today. At least with the sedative you'd usually fall asleep right away, and bypass the nightmares that usually came; it was part of the job, part of what came with being a Turk. It was something I understood all too well myself; I never could get past my nightmares myself.

Now, back to the present moment…you are finally resting peacefully, sleeping soundly, while I stay awake keeping watch over you like some weird sentinel. I often wonder if you know how intently I watch you, how I study you, while you're sleeping. You make this strange little sound as you snore; it's halfway between a whistle and a yodel. It's not very loud, in fact, it's so soft that I barely notice it myself if I'm asleep as well. But it's something that makes me smile every time I hear it. It's a reassurance that you're at peace, that you're relaxed enough around me to truly rest.

I rest my hand along the slight curve of your hip, feeling you breathe in and out, and I soon find that I am breathing in sync with you involuntarily. Just another way we both fit together, inexplicably. The soft light from the nearby lamp illuminates the features of your face. It is now when I realize how beautiful you really are, and it makes me catch my breath a bit. Your lips are slightly parted as you snore, your upper lip a perfect cupid's bow. Your lower lip is fuller, pouty. I'm almost tempted to bite on it, but then I remember that you really need your rest. Maybe later, after you've slept some more.

Your eyes twitch and move underneath tightly shut lids, no doubt reliving the horror of your day. How I wish I could take that away from you. I wish I could take the nightmares away for both of us. But they are part and parcel of who we are and what we do. Part of what we do for a living, and part of our pasts.

My fingers gently trace over your eyebrows, my touch light enough so as not to disturb your sleep. Your eyebrows play such a major part of every one of your facial expressions; they lift up in surprise and joy, come together in a frown when angry or confused; they relax and lay flat when we are joined together in passion. I feel a tugging in my groin as I recall the last time we were together, just two nights past. I shrug it off for now, knowing that once we're both rested, we will be with each other once again – physically, emotionally, and in every other way.

I'm finally feeling the effects of my own day creeping up on me. Exhaustion, worry, nervousness – those things both of us battle every day. I'm yawning, still gazing upon your fast-asleep face as I fight against sleep. For the first time ever, I realize something new. Freckles….you have them, a very light spray of them, splayed over your left cheek, and a few of them over the bridge of your nose.

I smile at this new discovery, and lean over to kiss you on your left cheek, just above a patch of those pale freckles, and yawn loud and long, before curling my arm around your waist tightly, and letting sleep claim me just as it's claimed you.


End file.
